Chapter 1

Though I know I am a pot calling a kettle black, I cannot help but notice how different April looks. The streaks of gray that run through her now-short hair add an aura of wisdom and maturity to her. There are a few more lines around her mouth, around her eyes. She looks tired. She is tired. But for some reason I'm convinced that, were she to smile, the weariness and age would melt away instantly.

However, she is not smiling at the moment. Not even a little. Glaring at me, she yells over the loud beating of the helicopter, "How on earth did you find me?"

I hesitate, just a moment. She won't like the answer. Her eyes narrow, and I wonder if she can read my mind.

"I put a tracker on you," I reply, "the last time we visited." Hollowly I chuckle, as I think again of her one-woman siege on my office in the Saki building. "You know, when you tried to kill me?"

"I remember." Her voice is little more than a bark. She is not amused.

Leaning forward, I reach towards her, and she immediately recoils. I sigh in frustration. "Relax. I'm just showing you the tracker." I take the left-hand sleeve of her jacket and roll it back a bit. There is a tiny black dot near the hem, and I point to it.

She squints. "Damn, that's tiny," is all she says.

"The wonders of nanotechnology, eh?" I pause, waiting for her to ask how I managed to tag her. But she doesn't ask. Probably just to spite me. With another sigh, I continue, "It was my security guard. When you passed through the metal detector, I asked him to hand your jacket back to you as an excuse to place the tracker."

Slipping a fingernail under the tracker, she lifts it off and, with a look of distaste, flicks it away. "Clever," she mutters, then turns to look out the helicopter's windows.

I fold my hands in my lap and glance down at them. Even after all these years of disguise, all I see are strange, foreign hands—not my hands, not at all—with oddly pale flesh and five too-thin fingers. When I glance back up, I see April staring at my hands, just as I had been.

"How?" she asks suddenly. "I mean, how are you getting the holographic effect? I remember you controlling it through a computer in your office, and I don't see anything in the 'copter that could be a projector."

I nod and pull back one of my coat sleeves to reveal my wristwatch. "It's a portable version," I explain while pointing to the watch. "A more finished version of the prototype I'd been working on … beforehand."

She nods and leans forward to study the watch more closely. As she bends down, her hair falls forward, and a few strands lightly tickle the back of my hand. To my annoyance, a small shiver runs down my spine. Meanwhile, completely unaware, April shoves her hair back from her face in irritation.

When she leans back, her curiosity sated, a silence descends upon us once again. This one is shorter, however, as soon April turns to me with a slightly worried look on her face.

"Don, where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Define 'safe' for me, please."

"To the Saki building," I clarify. "There are a few secret rooms there. Baxter's people won't find us. Not for a while, at least."

Her eyes widen a bit. "How did you—"

"Know that Baxter Stockman's after you?" I grin. I've stumped her, and as petty a victory it is, I find a certain satisfaction in it. "I have people within President Bishop's administration, within the CIA, within the FBI. And, of course, the National Science Foundation." I frown as I think that Bishop—good old fuck-crazy Agent John Bishop—has not only been elected to the highest office in the land but has also appointed Dr. Stockman, of all people, as director of the NSF. "Suffice it to say," I conclude, with a bitter taste on my tongue, "that I like to keep track on what my old friends are up to."

She smiles and allows herself a small laugh. In a slightly less hostile tone than before, she asks, "So, am I on the FBI's most wanted list or anything?"

"No, I'm afraid not. From what my sources tell me, Baxter is apparently a rogue agent in Bishop's administration, acting outside the president's authority."

Her smile widens. "Darn. Well, a girl can dream."

"My condolences." I raise an eye brow. "Better luck next time."

Suddenly she stops laughing, and her eyes shrink to tiny slits. "Donatello," she says in a now-serious tone, and one that I've learned to recognize as portending danger. "Why did you bother to save me back there? And why are you still helping me?" She looks me dead in the eye. "What's in it for you?"

A lot of things, actually.

But all I say is, "Very simple." Which is a lie, to say the least. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend." Which is, for once, not a lie.

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Author's Notes: First, I've rechristened the last chapter a "prologue" but the content's the exact same. Just a stylistic thing. Thank you for reading and reviewing—I do hope this story lives up to expectations. Though the loose ends and ambiguities of "Ashes to Ashes" will probably remain loose and ambiguous.

Oh, and President Bishop? I had so totally written a draft of this chapter before Fast Forward introduced President Bishop! I actually rewrote this to make Stockman the baddie to keep it within the FF canon of a reformed, good-guy Bishop. Also, Baxter's just plain fun.